In the Face of Evil
by okiegal2005
Summary: What happened the night the Riddle family was mysteriously killed? One shot.


Title: In the Face of Evil

Summary: What happened the night the Riddle family was mysteriously killed? One-shot.

Rating: K

Disclaimer: The characters (and even the main storyline) belong to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing.

**In the Face of Evil  
**

It is only the truth that matters now: the sick, despicable truth that I have to destroy. Being half blood isn't shameful – having a filthy muggle father is. He's hardly _my_ father. _My_ father wasn't a coward. _My_ father didn't leave just because he found that his wife was a witch.

Not that my mother's worth a sickle either. Not even powerful enough to save herself; people say she refused to do magic after my father left. She was just as bad as any other muggle. Worse – she had a choice.

But _he_ made her that way. And I can respect who she was, using her skill, her gift, her magic, in order to get what she wanted. At least, that's what I figure she did. I don't know for sure that she used a love potion, but it seems like the only way. Why'd she ever stop doing that? Perhaps I'll never understand.

They never cared for me. It's no loss for me, though. All that rubbish about love...power is all that matters. Getting what you can. Friendship, loyalty, all of that means nothing. It brings lives to waste, look at what it did to my mother. It's worthless. I'm lucky not to have been confused by that. It only means that there is nothing to stop me from being the most powerful wizard of all time.

Not yet, of course. I admit that I am young, and do not begin to equal Albus Dumbledore. But Dumbledore's caring demeanor, his trust and his belief in the best of people – his love, in other words – will be his undoing.

I must admit, though, I've hoodwinked him least of all. All of the teachers would never believe it if they heard what I was about to do; but, for some reason, I don't think Dumbledore would be surprised. I knew for a fact that, as trusting as he was, he didn't trust _me_ like everyone else did. So, of course, I couldn't risk to open the Chamber of Secrets again. Dumbledore would know. Everyone would know it was me. He had to quit while he was ahead.

But, the Chamber would be opened again. Maybe not while I was in school, but it would be. I was sure of it.

That wasn't the point of this little expedition, though. This had a purpose. Tonight, I would take my first steps into becoming immortal. If I failed, everything failed. My entire life, the state of the entire world, depended on this one night and what I would do.

The three of them were at the dinner table, eating as a family. How convenient. I had lived my life in a god-forsaken orphanage, and he, a grown man, was still being supported by his parents...my grandparents. The irony impressed me. It was bad enough growing up among muggles, but among muggles that weren't my family...

It was a blessing in disguise, of course. I didn't have to be tied down with love, or any of those foolish emotions. Nothing was there to stop me from being who I am today. That didn't stop me from hating him with everything in me. I had to. Hatred and rage were powerful emotions; love and compassion were for the weak. I did not forgive, I still do not. It would be downright stupid.

I leaned in toward the window, trying to hear into their conversation. For being such a big house, it was sure easy to hear into the kitchen.

"Well, now, Tom," said my grandmother, "you really need a job –"

"And a house," my grandfather interrupted.

"Yes, and a house of your own," she continued. "When you left with that girl, I thought you were really going to start your own life."

"That _girl_ is Merope," my father retorted. He was getting annoyed and angry. Did he still care about her? It wasn't possible. "And I told you, the situation was one of deceit and trickery."

"You were so in love with her," my grandmother said, a sound of happy reminiscing in her tone. "She was all you ever talked about."

"Literally," said the older man. "We couldn't get you to stop, no matter what we tried."

I looked inside. They were all sitting. I had a clear veiw of the face of my grandmother, though I was sure that she couldn't notice me. She was smiling rather sadly. "How could love like that go wrong?"

My father was facing the same direction as I was. I couldn't his facial expression. However, I heard something, presumably a fist, slam against the wooden table. "It went wrong when I realized that I was never in love with _Merope_ to begin with!"

There was a moment of silence at the table. Finally, Tom, my father, broke it. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's just that...you bring that up every single week, it seems. It's been over 16 years. I just want to forget about it."

I backed away, knowing that I had to act now. I rounded the corner to the front door, past the shrubs and the garden in front of the house. The porch was long, and high, but I made it to the front door without tripping over anything in the darkness of the night. I gently rapped at the door.

"Tom, why don't you get the door," I heard my grandmother say from inside. "You're the closest."

A few moments later, the door swung open, and I was standing face to face with my father for the first time. He looked not unlike myself; handsome features, dark hair and eyes. Obviously his age had worn him down a bit, but I wondered why he never married again. Then again, I myself was rather charming and attractive...and I would never get bogged down in that love stuff.

He gave me a look of disgust. I knew muggles didn't take well to meeting strangers, having lived among them for my entire life. And, to him, I was a stranger – a salesman, he probably thought. "Who are you?" he asked with that same disgusted tone.

I grinned slightly at him. "Not exactly the friendly type, are we?" I said. "My name is Tom. I figured I would be welcome here since it appears I am not the only one."

"You're wrong," he said immediately. "Whatever you're selling, we don't want it."

He started to shut the door in my face, but I put my arm up and stopped it. I stared him in the eye, and he gave me a looked that bordered on fear and annoyance. "Oh, but I think you do," I said in a soft, deadly voice. "Perhaps I should tell you my full name. At school, my records show Tom."

"You already said you're name was Tom." His voice was barely above a whisper, and I could tell he was scared.

"Tom Riddle."

He backed away from the door, looking at me with disdain, shock, and horror. "Tom _Marvolo _Riddle." I stepped over the threshold.

He looked away, not being able to bear the sight of me. "_Her father,"_ he whispered to himself. "It can't be."

I stepped toward him, my grin broadening. "Search your past," I said, "_Father._"

I heard footsteps. "Tom, who is at the door?" a woman yelled, my grandmother. She walked into the room. My poor father, however, was too shocked to speak. The woman turned toward me.

"Who are you and what do you want with my son?" she asked, trying to cover her fear.

The smile did not escape me. "Funny how you should care so much about your son," I said. "You love him, would do anything for him. I'm sure you would...never...think of leaving him, would you?"

"Of course not," she said harshly, and fearfully.

"An admirable quality, that kind of compassion is," I told her, "and apparently not a trait you passed down to your own son. Did he ever tell you that he was a father?"

My grandmother caught on to the situation very quickly. "Just because you two share some DNA doesn't mean you're his son!"

I laughed silently. "That's something we both can agree on," I said. "Now, I have one final question for you." She inched toward me. The silence exuding from my father, and my grandmother was deafening. "Would you _die _for your son?"

She backed up. She probably didn't guess what this question meant. Or maybe she did, and didn't even want to believe it. "Of course I would," she answered finally in a violent whisper.

"Well, then," I said, and I pulled out my wand.

"You're like...you're like _her!"_ Daddy dearest interrupted our conversation.

"If you mean my mother, I assure you that we have our differences," I said to him, never taking my eyes of his mother. "You said you would die for him...he doesn't deserve it, I beg you to reconsider," I assured her. "No? Well, then I guess we'll have to do this the hard way." I pointed my wand at her, and said the incantation for the first time on a human. "_Avada Kedavra!"_

She fell backward after a flash of green light, her body completely lifeless.

"NO!" came Tom's scream.

But I turned toward him and smiled wildly. Now, it was _his_ turn.

Then, and I should have known that this would happen, my grandfather rushed into the room, carrying a gun, a rifle. He pointed at me, preparing to shoot. I didn't have time to interrogate him. My wand was still up, and I simply aimed it at my grandpa. "_Avada Kedavra,"_ I said again, and before he could do anything, the green light hit him, and he, like his wife, fell over backward, the life drained out of him.

"_Murderer!"_ my dad screamed at me. "Are you going to murder me, like you did them?"

"Tsk, tsk," I said, shaking my head. "To be technical, me killing your father was merely an act of self-defense, not a murder. And I'd wager that, in your mother's case, I'd be charged with – what do you muggles call it – manslaughter?" I stayed calm throughout the explanation, but he was shaking. "Then again, I don't deny that your case, yes, this is cold-blooded, first degree murder."

My wand was raised, pointed at him, and he kneeled, at my mercy. It was a scene I had imagined many times before, but did not satiate me. "You...planned this?" he asked, scared for his life.

"I planned to kill you, yes. Not merely for revenge, though that was a nice side benefit. No, I have other reasons for what I'm about to do. I hope you forgive me, though." I smiled at him, at his begging face. "Of course, if you don't want to die..."

_I could make you want it._

He looked up at me hopefully, as if I was going to give him any mercy. I circled him. "_Crucio_," I said, with more venom in my voice than ever before.

I watched, enjoying the sight of my father writhing in pain. A part of me never wanted to take the hex off of him. The sight ensured that I was in control, I was the powerful one. His cries only added to my enjoyment, and I laughed. I laughed out loud, I laughed like a madman.

I don't know how long I waited until I finally took the Cruciatus curse off of him. When I did, he was breathing heavily. "How do you feel, now?" I asked.

"_Kill me."_

"But you seemed to be having so much fun," I said.

"_KILL ME!"_

I rested my wand on his shoulder. "As you wish," I said, lifting it up. "I should tell you, after tonight, Tom Marvolo Riddle will be dead. There will be nothing that attaches me to your name, nothing at all. I will forget you." I leaned down to him. "But while you're...whereever you are...you will think of me. Every. Single. _Second._"

I stood up and pointed my wand at him. "_Avada Kedavra!"_

I watched in glorious triumpth as the light in his eyes disappeared, and as my father become corpse. I kicked his torso, standing over him.

"Goodbye, Tom Riddle."


End file.
